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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29257074">Hiraeth</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/gankutsuou/pseuds/gankutsuou'>gankutsuou</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Angst, Blood and Injury, Drinking, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Falling In Love, Fluff and Angst, Full Moon, Grief/Mourning, Hurt Remus Lupin, Hurt/Comfort, Injury, Love, One Shot, Pain, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Random &amp; Short, Remus Lupin &amp; Lily Evans Potter Friendship, Remus Lupin Needs a Hug, Remus Lupin is Bad at Feelings, Scars, Shrieking Shack, Smoking, Werewolf Biology, Werewolf Remus Lupin, Werewolves</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-02-07</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-02-11</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-13 12:27:41</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>7,621</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29257074</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/gankutsuou/pseuds/gankutsuou</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>An ongoing series of Remus Lupin-centered one-shots.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Remus Lupin/Nymphadora Tonks</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>4</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>29</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>Great Lesser-Known Fanfics</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Olive Branch</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>This was partially inspired by Hermione's reaction to Remus's rant about Tonks and the baby during Deathly Hallows. Her eyes welling with tears as he spoke about how ashamed his child would be of him. I always got the impression they had a special little relationship that we never saw.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Life at Grimmauld Place was not the highlight of Hermione’s summer to say the least. Days were wrought with chores, screeching paintings, Boggarts lurking in dusty, ill-lit corners and a whole plethora of other nasty things. Of course she would be much happier once they were back at Hogwarts. But for now, Hermione had resolved to try and make the best of it. Which largely meant holing herself up in the vast and ancient Black library and busying herself with all sorts of research, both mundane and vastly beneficial to the Cause.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There was one thing though. One tiny little thing that itched at the back of her mind. A piece of unfinished business. Or maybe more to the point, a werewolf in the room that had yet to be addressed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Yes. Professor Lupin. Or Lupin. Or Remus. He didn’t seem to have a preference, so long as it wasn’t preceded by the sting of his former title. Of course no one else in the house seemed to recalled their rather awkward final encounter before reuniting at Grimmauld Place over a year later, but it ate away at Hermione like a sore that wouldn’t heal.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“He’s a werewolf!”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>It was guilt. A horrible, itching, hot guilt that ate at her with every polite smile and nod she gave him in passing. Every muttered “hello” and every wave goodbye as he disappeared through the floo. She had outed him. Without warning. In front of Harry and Ron, who had less than favorable reactions following.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And she never apologized.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Not that there was ever an opportune moment to, to be fair. When she first saw him at Grimmauld, and every moment following, Remus was either busy with some sort of task wrought upon him by either Dumbledore or Molly Weasley, or he was surrounded by other Order members, and Hermione had a sneaking suspicion that Remus would not appreciate bringing up one of his lowest moments from his year teaching at Hogwarts in front of an audience.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But then, one day, it seemed as if fate had presented her moment to her on a gilded platter. In the form of a new guest coming to join her in the library.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He didn’t seem  to notice her at first. Only the sound of gentle footfalls against the rotted, creaking floorboards altered her to his presence. She was sitting curled in an alcove in the far corner, books on ancient curses and runes were scattered about her along with discarded quills, ink pots and neatly organized piles of parchment. Her candle had snuffed itself out hours ago, she did not even seem to notice she had taken to using the moonlight pouring in through the window as her guide. To Remus, she must have just appeared as a lump of shadows in a dank corner of an ancient ruin of a library, not an unfamiliar sight throughout the rest of the house.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She parted her lips to greet him, but suddenly found herself sitting rigid, unable to move, a white-knuckled grip on the book in her lap. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Oh Merlin. </span>
  </em>
  <span>This was the time. When would this opportunity present itself again?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But all she did was watch him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She watched him enter, his face was sunken and tired, weather from the approaching full moon or just fatigue from the general madness of the house, Hermione could not tell. She thought about her third year, after she had figured out Lupin’s secret. It was almost comical what a terrible job he did hiding it. His absences like clockwork. Of course, she was far too angry with Ron and Harry at the time to clue them in. She liked the feeling of knowing something they didn’t. Seeing them try to riddle it out to now avail without her. Growing up Muggle, she had no preconceived fears of werewolves like most wizarding families did. And the overall idea that Lupin was running off and turning into a raging beast once a month was still detached, as if she still didn’t quite fully believe it. Like a war being fought in some far off land. Suffering that was real and yet not.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He approached a nearby shelf, one which contained mouldy and rotted editions on household remedies for a variety of ancient curses. Hermione had not gotten to those yet. His back was to her, her first thought was how much thinner he had gotten since she had last seen him, not quite fattened, but rounded out from a stream of steady fat-loaded Hogwarts meals. And then that guilt burned through her again. She felt somewhat responsible. She knew it was ridiculous, the full moon was that night, if Hermione had not outed him, the moon soon would have.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How are you this evening, Hermione?” she heard him say, his back still facing her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hermione jumped, a small, mouse-ish squeak escaped her throat. “How…?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He turned slightly and gave her a wry, knowing smirk as if to say, </span>
  <em>
    <span>come on Hermione, you </span>
  </em>
  <span>are </span>
  <em>
    <span>the resident werewolf expert among your peers, are you not?</span>
  </em>
  <span> But he said nothing, instead turning to face the bookshelf yet again and extracting a large, dark volume from the shelf. She watched him turn and seat himself at a large wing-back nestled by the darkened fireplace. He waved his hand at the hearth casually and Hermione watched the flame within ignite, casting the library in a gentle, warm glow.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Now feeling rather foolish skulking in the dark corner, Hermione dog-eared the book in her lap and got up to sit opposite Remus in the empty wing-back across from him. He did not look up at her, instead she watched his eyes dart about as he skimmed the table of contents at the front of the book in his lap.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s pleasant to see this library get some use from ones other than myself,” he said. His long fingers began thumbing through the pages.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Actually, I’m glad you’re here…” </span>
  <em>
    <span>Lupin? Remus? </span>
  </em>
  <span>Hermione made a palpable effort not to address him by name. “There’s been something on my mind.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lupin looked up at her, eyebrows raised, his gaze expectant, as if she had caught him off-guard.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Of course, Hermione. What is it you’d like to talk about?” His gaze relaxed into something resembling mild, polite interest...with a hint of panic. Hermione could imagine he most likely did not encounter a whole lot of “we need to talk” sort of conversations that ended well.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s about...I never had a chance to say goodbye...before you left.” Hermione winced at her own cowardice. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Just say you’re sorry you dolt!</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh!” Lupin looked surprised. “Well I certainly did not allow for the opportunity to myself. I was rather anxious to make my exit before the howlers began to arrive. Apologies for that.” His eyes were searching, as if she knew the conversation was much more than a matter of not saying goodbye.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hermione looked into the fireplace, watching the flames dance in the hearth, she found the words come easier to her now she no longer felt pinned by his gaze. “Of course. I understand completely. It must’ve been awful.” She found herself looking at him again, and his smile was tinged with sadness.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m afraid I’m very used to it by now, Hermione. My life has always been rather...nomadic.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Guilt made way for grief. The kind of grief that washed over her whenever she thought of the House Elves. A grief over the unfairness of it all, the unjustness. And the guilt crept back in as she chastised herself for never really considering how difficult Remus’s, and most likely every werewolf’s life was made by the buggered-up system that was the Ministry of Magic. She found her eyes beginning to well-up.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hermione! My goodness, what’s wrong?” she could hear the confusion in his voice. As if he had made an off-handed remark about the weather that brought her to the brink of tears, and not a horribly tragic comment about the unjustness of his own life.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She was no longer looking at him, but could hear the creak of the chair and the sound of fabric-against-fabric that indicated he was leaning in towards her. “I’m sorry...I’m sorry.” She turned her gaze up towards the ceiling and blinked back the tears, in seconds she had them at bay and lowered her gaze to look at him again, his face now alight with alarm.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hermione. Is everything alright? Has something happened?” Of course, he had no idea how his words were upsetting, which upset her even more.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She shook her head. “No. No. It’s just...I’m just so sorry that happened to you. There’s just so much about this world I want to change...and I just can’t.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He smiled softly at her and placed a hand gently on her knee. “That’s very sweet of you. I often feel the same way. I’ve found you mustn’t let it weigh too much on your mind, torturing yourself over things you cannot change. You’ll...go mad.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And then she felt the words come pouring out of her. Yes. There were wrongs in the world she would never hope of righting overnight. But this was the one thing she </span>
  <em>
    <span>could </span>
  </em>
  <span>make right. Right now. “I’m so sorry I outed you like that to Harry and Ron. I took your private business and I...weaponized it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Don’t be silly,” Lupin blurted out before Hermione had properly finished. She looked up at him and found his face had gone hard, a professor reprimanding a student. “You thought I had betrayed you. You had done me a great service in keeping my secret as long as you did. You have absolutely nothing to apologize for.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hermione exhaled deeply, letting the lingering anxiety come spilling out in her breath. It was done. And of course, she was silly, and had nothing to apologize for, of course. Of course. Silly, stupid Hermione.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ve spent so much time worrying about the rights of the House Elves. Organizing protests. Making banners. But I’m just as awful and cruel as any other bigot out there. I knew how Harry and Ron would react when I outed you, I made the implication that you were...</span>
  <em>
    <span>dangerous.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“I </span>
  <em>
    <span>am </span>
  </em>
  <span>dangerous, Hermione.” His tone was steel. “Werewolves are dangerous. We are nothing like House Elves. You should know that better than most. Ron’s fear of me was not unfounded. I nearly killed you all that night.” There was a beat, Hermione had no retort and Lupin appeared to be quickly calculating what to say next. “I’m touched that this has weighed on you so much. But please do not let it burden you any further. That night was far from my most brilliant moment but that had nothing to do with </span>
  <em>
    <span>you.” </span>
  </em>
  <span>He gave her knee a squeeze before retracting his hand and leaning back into his chair. When she finally summoned the courage to look at him again, he was smiling.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She </span>
  <em>
    <span>did </span>
  </em>
  <span>feel better, after all that. She felt in his affectionate stare that he truly did not blame her for anything, there was never a grudge to be held. There suddenly felt like there was much more air in the room, the warmth of the fire enveloped her pleasantly, and the silence between them was calm and comfortable. Only for the briefest moment did she feel herself embarrassed that she almost bloody </span>
  <em>
    <span>cried </span>
  </em>
  <span>in front of poor Lupin, burdened him with all her feelings when the poor man had clearly retreated to the library to read in peace.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And then it struck her, and she felt she had the words to properly elaborate. “It’s just that...you see...as a muggleborn, I also know what it’s like for people to make assumptions of you, oftentimes negative, about your abilities or your character. I always assumed I would know better than to behave the way I did. I know our circumstances are different, but I thought if there was anyone that should have been able to empathize and understand what it’s like to go through the wizarding world as an outcast, it should have been me. And in that instant, I wasn’t any better.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lupin was nodding, taking her words in. “I can understand that. We both are victims of circumstances outside of our control, circumstances we are often made to wear like a badge of shame.” Hermione nodded, a deep weight lifting from within with every word. “I also have treated others in a way I’m ashamed of. For someone who was made to feel so low in the world, to know I had the capacity to inflict that kind of cruelty onto others...it too haunts me. But in the end, that’s what it is to be human. To make mistakes.” Lupin turned his gaze towards the flames, she could see the cogs in his head turning, calculating how much detail to give to this girl he barely knew.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But then, before she knew what she was saying, she heard herself asking, “how old were you? When you were bitten?” She winced, closing her eyes as if expecting a physical blow. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Hermione what is </span>
  </em>
  <span>wrong </span>
  <em>
    <span>with you?! </span>
  </em>
  <span>It seems her mind’s natural inclination for conversation, to continue poking and prodding with seemingly endless questions until none remained. Even if it was painful.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Yet another stone unturned, thing left unsaid and even </span>
  <em>
    <span>unthought. </span>
  </em>
  <span>The books on werewolves Hermione waded through were just...terrible. Hateful. Violent even. Thorough on all the means to identify and kill. It was rudimentary on the surface. Werewolves were just another beast she best know to defend herself against. At least that was how she felt in the throes of her research. But she was struck by the memory, of approaching Lupin, tired and pale and ill, hunched over his desk, he looked up at her and accepted her paper with a weary smile, and graded it the same way he always did, as if she did not just hand him a written essay on how to locate and kill </span>
  <em>
    <span>him.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“I was three.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Th...</span>
  <em>
    <span>three?” </span>
  </em>
  <span>Lupin nodded. Hermione had known that he was bitten at a young age but not </span>
  <em>
    <span>that </span>
  </em>
  <span>young. She immediately regretted asking, if only to spare Lupin the pain of having divulged that kind of private information to an ex-student. “I’m so sorry. I don’t know what’s wrong with me today. I shouldn’t have asked.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His smile was kind. “It’s quite alright Hermione. I know that curious intellect of yours is not easily sated.” There was a slight, almost canine cock of his head that set Hermione at ease somehow, and with that silent permission, Hermione pressed onward.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Were you registered? From what I’ve read, the werewolf registry is rather bare.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He gave an imperceptible shake of his head. “No. Not until Severus outed me last year, I didn’t really have a choice then. As a boy the anonymity preserved what childhood I could have, and it allowed me to attend Hogwarts later on. Once I was in the Order, we all agreed having my name in the registry would have been a grave tactical error. My ability to anonymously infiltrate certain werewolf packs would have been...compromised. And quite frankly, given what the Ministry decides to use the information in the registry for, it’s hardly a worthwhile endeavor for any werewolf to subject themselves to.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hermione nodded at that, she could only imagine.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re worried about a muggleborn registry.” It wasn’t a question. And Hermione stiffened. Now it was Lupin’s turn to prod, it seemed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes,” she had no choice but to be honest. “I’m terrified of the idea. I can’t imagine if we lose this war...I doubt the registry will be </span>
  <em>
    <span>optional.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“And Voldemort is offering to let werewolves roam free. Funny, that.” Lupin’s tone suggested he did not find the idea funny at all. Hermione noticed that at some point Lupin had begun to nervously pick at his fingers, his left index finger was already bleeding ever so slightly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“But we both know better,” Hermione said with a smirk. Lupin gave a breathy chuckle, flashing his teeth, and nodded in agreement.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That we do.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Very little could be said after that. And little was. The lull in their conversation gave way to the pair quietly turning to their own reading, the only sound being the gentle flipping of pages and the crackling of the fire. Eventually, as the flames dulled down to glowing embers, it was Lupin who left first, giving Hermione a polite “good evening” and offering to light the fire again for her, which she declined with equal politeness.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>When Hermione would return to the library the following evening, Lupin would already be there, with two cups of tea set out and ready on the side table beside the fire. He would look up at her, smile, and return to his reading. As Hermione picked out a book from the shelf and joined him in the opposite wing-back from his own, she had a feeling these little evenings in the library were quickly becoming her favorite part of her summer.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Disease</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>What happened in between the hospital scene and Dumbledore's funeral.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>It took a long time for Tonks to finally realize why the words “I don’t care” upset him so. Of course, there were the parts for which she and everyone else agreed that Remus was being ridiculous about. The feelings of uncleanness, unworthiness. All stupid. Ridiculous, even. And for the majority of their relationship, Tonks believed that’s all it was. Until the day she knew better.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Remus was surrounded by people who loved him dearly. People who looked past his lycanthropy and saw the gentle, kind, witty and intelligent man beneath that horrible word. But that wasn’t what Remus needed to hear. Not for their relationship to survive. Of course, not even Remus knew what he needed to hear. Until the day he did.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was the week after her outburst at the Hospital Wing. The pair were cordial, polite even. And it drove Tonks crazy. She knew another argument, another outburst, would solve nothing. But she knew the answer was somewhere, somewhere in the way Remus articulated his unworthiness, somewhere there was something Tonks could get a foothold in and get him to understand how deep and impenetrable her love was. </span>
  <em>
    <span>But what?</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>She visited Bill and Fleur in the hospital wing. Anything that could get her mind of Remus. Of course, upon seeing the pair, she knew what an inane choice of company it was. Watching the pair holding hands, stealing loving glances at one another, butterfly kisses, it made her bloody </span>
  <em>
    <span>sick.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m going to see if Pop needs help with anything,” she growled before taking her leave.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Poppy was in her office, leaning back in her chair reading a muggle novel of some sort. Clearly not busy. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Bugger.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>The matron peered at her over the top of her spectacles. “Hello Miss Tonks. Do you need something? More bruise cream already?” She smirked, it was the closest thing she had ever seen the matron make to a joke. She was slightly stunned.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“N-No. Sorry. Just looking to see if you needed any help but…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sit down, dear.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tonks did as commanded. She and Poppy were on moderately friendly terms, having visited her quite frequently in her school years for obvious reasons. Her seven years were filled with a multitude of nicks, bumps and bruises.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Poppy flicked to the next page in her book and glanced up at Tonks. “I heard your little outburst last week.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tonks let out an animated huff. “Blimey, who didn’t?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Has Remus come around at all?” she asked.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tonks rolled her eyes. “Of course not. Man’s more stubborn than I am. Unstoppable force, immovable object and all that.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Poppy was looking at her with a wistful smile, she closed her book and set it down on the desk in front of her. “Yes, I’ve known Remus long enough to know how stubborn he can be. Especially in regards to his own wellbeing.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Huh? Oh right. School. Sure Remus was getting into all sorts of scuffs with Sirius and the lot. Got any good stories?” Tonks’s attempt at lightening the mood seemed to have failed miserably, as she watched Poppy’s smile fade almost instantly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He really never told you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Told me what?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Not surprising in hindsight. But I thought since the two of you were so close he would have mentioned </span>
  <em>
    <span>something.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“Poppy, with all due respect, what the bloody hell are you on about?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Silence hung in the air between the two women. Poppy stare was unsettlingly penetrating, as if she was making rapid calculations about something. “Foolish, stubborn boy,” she said under her breath as she stood.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She strode over to a nearby wall that was lined with files upon files upon files. Tonks could only assume it to be the matron’s entire medical history of every student she ever treated.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“For Merlin’s sake. Men. How’re we supposed to do anything…” she was muttering again to herself. Tonks watched her, confusion growing with each passing second.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ah. Here.” She drew her wand and summoned a gargantuan file filled to bursting with papers so much so the file itself was tied up with string. She turned around and deposited the file onto the desk before Tonks. “Of course, this is a severe breech in privacy, but the b...man, has not been my patient for several decades and I consider this to be in his own best interest.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Poppy, please. I have no idea what you’re talking about. What’s going on?” Tonks eyed the file but did not leave the slump of her seat in the chair.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How much of Remus’s condition has he shared with you?” Poppy asked, folding her arms in front of her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tonks gaped. “Wh...not much? He’s pretty tight-lipped about it. Goes on and on about how dangerous he is. Raving, heartless beast and all that shite. You know? Sirius is the only one he really ever confided in about all of that stuff. I tried reading up on it on my own but you know how the books--”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes, I know the books,” Poppy interrupted, sounding impatient. She sighed and looked down at the file. “I think I know what’s going on here, with him. And I don’t quite think he’s being very fair.” The mysterious file on the desk was now practically buzzing with the anticipation of Poppy’s unspoken words. She laid a hand on the file and looked Tonks squarely in the eye. “He hasn’t explained to you how debilitating his condition really is. Weather out of pride or shame or something else, I don’t know. But he hasn’t given you an opportunity to understand the severity and make an informed judgement.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She slid the file towards Tonks, she reached out and took it from her. She tilted her head slightly to get a good look at the words written in faded, bleeding ink on the curled, yellowing tab on the file: REMUS J. LUPIN - GRYFFINDOR.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Please don’t tell him I gave this to you.” Poppy continued. “Just read through it. Try and understand, being with Remus, with a werewolf, comes with some very harsh realities. I believe Remus thinks it’s best to spare you that at the cost of any kind of happiness.” Poppy leaned in, her gaze boring into Tonks’s, “and I strongly disagree.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tonks, still internally nursing her confusion, nodded and stood, the file clutched tightly in her arms.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You may take that into one of the private rooms, just please return it when you’ve finished.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Of course.” said Tonks, and she turned on her heel and left.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She passed Bill and Fleur’s bed, Bill was fast asleep but Fleur sat up at Tonks’s approach. “Wot eez zat miz Tonks?” she asked.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tonks strode right past her. “Some light reading!” she called back. She saw Fleur wave dismissively at her before returning to staring at her comatose fiancee.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Tonks threw herself into the first private room she found. She kicked off her boots and plopped herself down on the empty, sheetless bed. Sitting cross-legged, she untied the file and threw it open.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Alright Remus, let’s see what we got,” she muttered to herself.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The very first file sitting on top was Remus’s student identification record with a faded school photograph attached. Remus appeared to be seventeen or eighteen, his final school photo before graduation, she assumed. He smiled anxiously at the camera, holding up a hand awkwardly as if waving at the photographer. He was as thin and gawky as Tonks pictured school-boy Remus to look. His hair was wild and unkempt as if someone had just tousled it. His robes and tie were rumpled as if he had just escaped some kind of tussle. She could almost hear Sirius and James heckling poor Remus on the sidelines as the photo was taken. She noticed that the light scars that ran across his face were conspicuously absent.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The record itself was nothing mind-altering. Nothing Tonks didn’t already know. His grades were not included in the file but from what Sirius had said, Remus was an exceptional student. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Beneath the record, files were neatly clipped together and organized. Tonks was unsure if Poppy expected her to read the entirety of Remus’s Hogwarts medical history, or if there was something specific she was supposed to see. The topmost stack was labeled “intake transcripts.” She read the file sitting on the very top:</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>NEW PATIENT INTAKE. INTRODUCTION OMITTED FOR BREVITY. FULL TRANSCRIPT AVAILABLE IN ARCHIVES.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>P.P. Your parents usually kept you outside yes? In the shed?</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>R.L. Yes.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>P.P. We have a place set up for you. So you don’t have to worry about that. It’s a fair bit larger than a shed. We hope that might alleviate some of your injuries afterward.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>R.L. That would be nice. Thank you very much.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>P.P. I would like to know a little bit about what happens every month. So I can make sure I’m adequately prepared.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>R.L. Okay.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>P.P. How do you feel leading up to the [REDACTED]? Do you take any kind of potions? Do you require anything beforehand?</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>R.L. Um...I get sort of...restless? And I get nightmares. My mother usually makes me tea.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>P.P. And does that help?</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>R.L. No. Not really.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>P.P. And when do you start feeling restless?</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>R.L. The day before...and the day of.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>P.P. And what about the morning after?</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>R.L. …</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>P.P. Remus? We need you to be honest so we know how best to help you.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>R.L. I’m sorry. I’m hurt, usually. I sleep a lot...after. My head hurts. Usually my da has to wrap me up. Sometimes...my arm or leg are out of place. That hurts the most. When he has to set it back in the right place.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>P.P. Are some nights worse than others?</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>R.L. Yes. Whenever we move to a new place. Or...sometimes I have a bad day the night before. It hurts more then.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>P.P. We’ll take good care of you Remus, you don’t have to worry.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Tonks frowned. The literature never said anything about what happens to a restrained werewolf, only endless gory details of any who ran free. </span>
  <em>
    <span>So the wolf hurts itself? </span>
  </em>
  <span>Tonks wondered. She racked her brain trying to think of what Remus was like the day after the full moon, but she quickly realized that she wasn’t entirely sure she ever </span>
  <em>
    <span>did </span>
  </em>
  <span>see him directly after, and she felt a pang of guilt in her stomach.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She skimmed the intake files beneath, months stretching into years of “does it hurt when I do this?” or “one more day of rest and you may return to class.” or “try not to move around so much, the wound will open back up.” She recalled Remus explaining how difficult cursed wounds were to heal, and how they scarred. As she eyed the dates on each file, it seemed that Remus did not go a single full moon without needing to recuperate afterward. Not a single one. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The file beneath was labeled “history,” and told a mirroring story, only in the language of lists upon lists upon lists. Broken bones, claw marks, dislocated joints, bruises, cracked ribs, concussions, the list went on and on and on and on. Skele-Gro, Dreamless Sleep, tinctures for headaches, potions to ease restlessness and anxiety, blood replenisher. There was scarcely a salve or tincture or potion that Remus had not taken. There was a handwritten note wedged between the files:</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Mr. Lupin is experiencing pain in his joints which upon inspection appears to be extremely early developing arthritis. I can only assume from the repeated breakage of his bones and warping of his joints. There is nothing in the current literature that addresses this. I’ve also noticed some of his hair is beginning to go grey as well. I would like permission to commission St. Mungo’s for some treatments to help in this regard. Our on-campus apothecary is not equipped for this.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Please advise.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>It was when she flipped the history file over, revealing the bundle of files underneath, did her heart seemingly leap into her throat.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was an independent set of medical records dated somewhere in Remus’s third year. There was a strip of grizzly looking photographs of parts of Remus’s body, legs, arms, chest, where it looked as if the wolf had attempted to claw and bite itself to death. The wounds were raw, blood lazily oozing from within. In some photographs, bone, muscle and viscera could be seen clearly. There were multiple photographs of where it appeared the wolf had completely torn Remus’s arm off and Poppy had attempted to suture it back on.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Beneath the photograph was a carbon-copy of a note Poppy must have sent to Dumbledore:</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Albus,</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>It has been getting worse every month. This is the worst one yet. If I cannot transfer him to St. Mungos then I need a second pair of hands to help me. If not, he will die. I refuse to be the one to inform his parents if that happens. I know secrecy in this matter is of utmost importance but I refuse to make that commitment at the cost of a young boy’s life.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Poppy.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>There was no copy of any kind of reply. But seeing as Remus was currently alive and breathing suggested that Poppy did eventually get the help she needed. She flipped to the parchment underneath which listed each of Remus’s injuries in excruciating detail, the list was nearly twice as long as anything listed in the previous files. There was a handwritten note attached beneath:</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>It is my professional opinion that the [REDACTED] aggression has increased dramatically with the onset of puberty. From my research the average lifespan of a [REDACTED] is roughly ten to fifteen years from time of infection if held in captivity. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>If we do not find a solution soon…</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>The note cut off abruptly. The end of the page was warped, as if it had gotten wet. Tonks felt herself blink back tears that threatened to fall.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Ten to fifteen years.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>How did Remus survive this long? Tonks cross-referenced the dates on the file with the rest of Remus’s history. It seemed that something had happened within a few months of that near-fatal incident, Remus’s injuries seemed to have leveled out. There were still records of various fractures and lacerations up until his graduation, but nothing nearly as grizzly as that horrific night of his third year. </span>
  <em>
    <span>What changed?</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>She flipped to the very back of the file, where there sat a neat little bundle of what appeared to be Christmas cards. Tonks took the top one from the pile, which bore a beautiful moving watercolor illustration of children ice skating on a lake, and opened it. There she immediately spotted Remus’s neat handwriting:</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Hope this finds you well. I ran out of that salve you sent me a few months back, but I think I have a recipe that might rival it, sent along a sample, please let me know what you think.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span> Wishing you a Merry Christmas.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Thank you for everything.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>RJL</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>A smile crept along her face. For whatever reason, despite having been privy to years of Remus’s private medical information, to read through his Christmas cards felt like a bridge too far. With that, she closed the file.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She looked up and stared into the wall opposite her, lost in thought. She always resented how naive and foolish Remus sometimes made her feel, and yet, after reading through all that, she understood now. And anger surged through her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Anger at the literature that never looked at lycanthropy as anything other than a vile curse that only affected the guilty. Not the </span>
  <em>
    <span>disease </span>
  </em>
  <span>that it was. And that is what Poppy wanted her to understand. Remus was not an animagus, he didn’t “just turn hairy once a month” as she remembered herself saying to him not too long ago. Her flippantness had hurt him. Her lack of understanding what she was committing to. Remus was sick. Chronically so. Terminally so. And he did not want to burden her with that.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The office was empty when Tonks returned the file.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She wasn’t going to tell him she would be there in the morning. She knew him well enough by now. If she did he’d most likely transform in some unknown location or barricade the cellar with a cacophony of spells to keep her out. It was a betrayal of sorts, but he’d forgive her. Eventually. Remus Lupin did not hold grudges.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She arrived squarely at dawn, nearly tumbling out of the floo. The sun had not yet crested the horizon, the noble and most ancient house of Black was cast in a dreamy glow of incoming morning. She was used to waking up early for both Auror and Order duty, but drowsiness stubbornly clung to her all the same.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She wandered through the kitchen and began to brew a pot of coffee. Her mind whirring with recollections of the file she had poured over the week before. A memory of an off-handed remark, somewhere in the lists upon lists upon lists: Remus had difficulty keeping down solid food for nearly 24 hours after the transformation back. Broths, juices, teas only during that time. Tonks immediately set the stove alight and produced a jar of broth from the pantry. Her heart ached, seeing the entire wall lined with preserved liquids. It seemed odd at the time, but suddenly it all made sense why Sirius seemed to always inquire as to the amount of juice and tea and broth was on hand in the house at all times.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>How was she so blind?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Within the hour, there was broth, tea and coffee all ready and set with warming charms on the stove. The sun was a dreary blur on the horizon. Tonks dramatically turned to face the cellar door. This was it. She braced herself.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There were several reinforcement, repellant and protection charms on the door which she dispatched quickly. The door swung open as the last charm was dissolved. Revealing a stone staircase which descended into thick, murky darkness. There was an unpleasant metallic smell emanating from below. Tonks inhaled, and began her descent.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She lit her wand about halfway down, the waning light of the kitchen beginning to fail her. The darkness was almost suffocating, the light of her wand barely able to penetrate it. She jumped slightly as she encountered the stones of the cellar floor. She stood, alert, her wand illuminating nothing but further darkness.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Her ears picked up the sound of strangled, hoarse breathing, somewhere to her left. She slowly turned, her light picking up nothing. Nothing but darkness. One foot in front of the other, her free hand feeling blindly around her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“R-Remus?” she called out. The breathing continued, but there was no answer.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A stone wall slowly came into view. Tonks could see claw marks, old and new, carved into the ancient stonework. She could also make out the glittering of something dark, staining the walls. The metallic smell was stronger than ever.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She looked down.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She saw the pale and bruised flesh of his back. His breaths were deep and ragged. His limbs were sprawled out in front of him, sleeping on his side, sprawled like a dog. He was shivering slightly. The fur retracted, no longer providing him warmth.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tonks fell to her knees, she cast an orb of light above her that hovered over the pair as she pulled him gently by the shoulder to ease him onto his back, exposing ribs, easily countable, and a labyrinth of scarred flesh. Mouth set in a firm line, she set forth on assessing his wounds. She cast various diagnostic charms, healer skills honed from years of auror training immediately kicked in as she ticked off the list in her head: broken wrist, three cracked ribs, lacerations on the forearms, bruising on the face, shoulder, chest, right shoulder dislocated, several fingernails missing.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hypothermia from the cellar was the most immediate concern. She cast a warming charm. Next. She looked over the lacerations, shallow, no nicked arteries, they could wait. Setting the shoulder next, so she could move him upstairs.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Remus?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>No reply. Most likely unconscious.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Okay girl. Okay. You can do this.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>She gently lifted the offending arm, </span>
  <em>
    <span>here we go...you’ve done this before...all part of your training...</span>
  </em>
  <span>She pointed her wand at his shoulder…</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Episkey!”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>There was a horrible, hollow THUMP! As the arm slid back into joint. Remus emitted a horrible groan and instinctively pulled his arm free, turning away from her. Tonks wrenched her hands away as if burned. Remus continued to groan. There was suddenly a new smell assaulting her senses, a feeling of wetness at her knee. Tonks glanced down, and saw that Remus had wet himself.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She took a deep inhale, and steadied herself. “Remus...we need to get you upstairs. Alright? Can you hear me?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He did not answer, he started to curl in on himself, as if shielding himself from further ministrations from Tonks. She wasn’t entirely sure what sounds or movements from him were entirely conscious.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Getting Remus upstairs was not without its complications, and she wondered how Sirius did it the months he was there to be with him. After pawing about in the darkness with her dismal wand light, she was able to find a torn-up mattress she was able to transfigure into a crude stretcher. After that she was able to levitate Remus onto it and up the stairs with relative ease, taking the trip as slow and steady as her shaking hands and fractured nerves would allow.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Remus’s bedroom was, thankfully, the very first door on the landing of the second floor. She had only been inside a handful of times. The room was rather bare, with only a few small stacks of books, discarded socks and a few empty tea mugs that indicated the room had an occupant at all.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She quickly deposited Remus onto the bed and, head turned, quickly pulled the duvet over his waist, only catching a glimpse of dark hair as the duvent made to preserve an ounce of his modesty.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was strange, looking at him now, how familiar the unfamiliar sight was to her now, having read through Poppy’s medical files. It all seemed so...expected now. Illustrations to the bland rows of text depicting all sorts of injury.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tonks quicky set about sealing and wrapping the open wounds, which would never completely heal by magic, but could be kept clean and sealed until they healed on their own. The bruises, luckily, were not technically cursed wounds and were able to be healed with relative ease. It was freshman auror level first aid. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Child’s play! </span>
  </em>
  <span>Tonks smiled to herself. </span>
  <em>
    <span>We got this. We got this Tonks.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Accio Skele-Gro!” </span>
  </em>
  <span>Tonks called. A near-empty bottle soared down the hall and collided gracefully with Tonks’s palm. She lifted his head, just like she was taught, and gently coaxed the concoction down his throat. “</span>
  <em>
    <span>You’re alright...you’re alright sweetheart…” </span>
  </em>
  <span>she breathed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>One final diagnostic charm signaled that all his injuries were healed or healing. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Bloody well done Tonks! </span>
  </em>
  <span>She’d be sure to brag endlessly over her healing skills once Remus woke. When that was? She had no clue. But that didn’t matter. Remus was breathing, healing, warm and safe. With her. Conscious was just the last box left to tick off Tonks’s list.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She trotted downstairs into the kitchen to prepare the broth and tea for Remus when he woke. As she set about ladling things into mugs and bowls, she let her mind wander…</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Tonks deserves someone young and whole.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>At the time, the “whole” part of Remus’s sentence didn’t register that much with her, so blinded by her love and her anger she was. But suddenly, recalling that word, coming from Remus’s mouth, filled her heart to bursting with an unknowable ache. It made sense now though, Tonks was so single-minded in her attempt to heal him that only now did she really recall the condition of Remus’s body. The latticework of old and new scars, none ever fully healed. There was a ring of pink scar around his right arm, where Poppy had reattached it that horrible moon of his fifth year. She could see the ring of sunken, warped flesh around his shoulder, distended and warped from age, where Remus was first bitten, setting this whole rotten history into motion. She shook her head clear as she returned to him upstairs.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tonks placed the tray of food down, reached out and took his hand in hers, “never again. You hear me? Never again.” she whispered.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His adam apple began to bob. His eyelids twitched. And his dry, cracked lips parted. He was coming to.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tonks sat rigid in her seat, her hand a vice around his. She was vaguely aware of the sensation of him returning her grasp with a weak squeeze. His eyes opened to a sliver, then he quickly scrunched them shut and groaned. Tonks frowned in confusion.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Remus?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Bright.” his voice, shredded and worn from a night of howling, was barely discernible. But Tonks understood immediately.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Bugger all! I’m so sorry!” she quickly took her wand in her free hand and drew the curtains of the room closed, letting the room descend into darkness. “That better?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes,” Remus croaked, his eyes opening a little wider now. “Why’re you here?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She tried her best to swallow down the biting remark, </span>
  <em>
    <span>why </span>
  </em>
  <span>wouldn’t </span>
  <em>
    <span>she be here? </span>
  </em>
  <span>“I wanted to make sure you were alright. You weren’t, by the way. I believe thanks are in order.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He turned his head slightly to face her. “Shouldn’tve seen.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She ran her thumb across his knuckles. “And why not? You were always saying I didn’t understand, well I took it upon myself.” Her gaze was soft, Remus’s was unreadable, he blinked dopily at her. When he offered no reply, she continued. “Not sure if you’re in the right headspace to get this right now but...Poppy…” Tonks’s eyes fell down to her lap. “She told me how hard it is on you. How crippling and humiliating it can be for you. I had no idea, the books are all rubbish.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>At that, Remus eyes seemed to widen more, as if he was just noticed she was physically here, in front of him, and not some sort of potion-induced apparition.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You didn’t want me to settle for a sick old man, is that it?” Remus winced. “Or did you think I’d be repulsed by it all? Or both?” Tonks shook her head as if clearing it. “Don’t answer that. Look, I’m here, I got here at the crack of bloody dawn and hauled your naked arse up three flights of stairs, cleaned and dressed your wounds, got all the blood and grime and </span>
  <em>
    <span>piss</span>
  </em>
  <span> off you </span>
  <em>
    <span>and me</span>
  </em>
  <span>, made you bloody </span>
  <em>
    <span>breakfast. </span>
  </em>
  <span>And did you notice something Lupin? </span>
  <em>
    <span>I’m still here.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Remus’s face looked utterly lost. “Why…?” his voice was weak and distant.</span>
</p><p><span>She leaned in close to his face, he smelled terrible, but again, she didn’t care. “</span><em><span>Because I love you!</span></em> <span>And all this morning did was make me love you more! To know this is what you’ve been dealing with? During a sodding </span><em><span>war </span></em><span>and you come to Order meetings with that stupid dopey smile and make tea and set the table like your whole world isn’t falling apart? How can anyone not fall head over heels for you?” She grinned, she could see him blink back tears, but they rolled down his face nonetheless.</span></p><p>
  <span>“What...did I do to...deserve you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Her smile widened, threatening to split her face in two.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He squeezed his eyes shut, he inhaled sharply, as if willing himself not to fall apart completely in front of her. “I love you. I love you so so much, Dora.” He opened his eyes, revealing glassy irises and bloodshot whites, she saw his bottom lip tremble.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>With that, Tonks crawled onto the bed and gathered him into her arms. He clutched to her like an anchor to his world. She rubbed his shoulders as she felt him shake, completely falling apart in front of her, broken with the realization of their love. She nuzzled the top of his head, rubbing her cheek against his matted, filthy hair.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Maybe once he was fully healed he’d retreat again, go over the same diatribe about unclean and unworthiness. But not now, not for this morning. Tonks didn’t care</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
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